Emma Ch. 04

"Top 50? Could've sworn I made top 10 that year?" she pondered absent-mindedly.

I laughed. "My point is, those things might have mattered at first, but eventually, I couldn't care less about any of it."

"Is that what you tell your friends?"

"Yep."

"And do they believe you?"

"Hell no."

Emma laughed. "So what else have you told your friends? Were they jealous when you told them how you spent 4 months having crazy sex with me?"

"Well, I didn't use those words exactly, but they know it was more than just a fling. And yeah, they were very jealous."

"What kind of things did they ask you?"

"The most common one is 'what's she like in real life', followed by 'why aren't you guys still together'. And naturally after a few drinks, there were a couple of 'what's she like in in the sack' from the guys."

Emma chuckled. "How did you reply to the last one?"

"I would say, 'she says she likes it slow and romantic but often just loves a good hard fuck'."

"Shut up!" she laughed. "You did not say that."

"I didn't," I admitted. "I just went with the standard, 'a gentleman never tells'."

"With all the things we did, I wouldn't call you a gentleman," she muttered.

"Look who's talking. You were far from ladylike a lot of the time.

"I would ask what you're referring to, but I suspect I wouldn't like the answer."

"You probably wouldn't. Funny thing about all that, I can't watch your movies anymore. Because I inevitably start thinking about us and then the stuff we got up to."

"Really? Well judging by some of my recent reviews, you're not missing out on much," she said glumly.

"I'm sure they haven't been too bad. But for example, I was watching one of the Harry Potter films the other week and kept finding myself turned on every time you came on screen. It's not a reaction I was used to have when watching those movies previously."

"Oh God," she laughed. "Please tell me I was 18 years or older during the film?"

"You were," I laughed. "It was the second to last film."

"Seriously?!" she said, laughing even harder. "What turned you on? All the jackets or the tight sweaters?"

"They were pretty sexy sweaters," I muttered.

"Oh honey, you've been alone for too long."

This time I didn't even think about it and blurted out, "Well then come down to Australia and keep me company."

There was no immediately response from Emma. Given how we ended things and our present circumstances, it was a rather seriously thing to just blurt out, even as a joke. I prepared myself for a rather serious conversation about our lives, the distance between us and how we could makes things work but instead, Emma simply said,

"Do you really think that's a good idea?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Do we have to have this conversation again?" she asked solemnly.

"No, I guess not," I replied. "I just miss you."

"I miss you too."

And back to awkward silence again. It's beginning to seem like half of this phone call is just made up of dead silence. I thought through all the things I could possibly say before settling on,

"I really miss you Em. Christ, I even resorted to Googling those topless beach photos of you the other day."

"Oh, that's just sad. If I knew you'd be like that, I wouldn't have deleted those nude shots I let you take of me."

I smiled and replied cheekily, "Not too late. You're calling me from your iPhone aren't you? How about taking your top off and sending me a couple of snaps?"

"I don't need to take my top off. I'm not wearing anything at the moment," she said in a sexy whisper.

"Really?" I asked, sitting up straight.

Emma laughed. "Of course not. I'm wearing a thick jumper and jeans. But tell me that didn't get you excited for just a moment."

"It really did."

I suddenly sensed then that our conversation had reached its end. I waited and listened intently for several long seconds and heard nothing. In my head, there were many things I wanted to say to her but none of them would do any good. And so, with regret, I grudgingly said,

"Listen, it's been nice talk-"

I never finished the sentence, perhaps serendipitously or by design as Emma had anticipated how it would end. Regardless, Emma quickly cut me off and said,

"I found your Omega watch by the way. The one you thought you left in Geneva."

"Get out of here. Really? Where was it?"

"It was in one of my winter coats. You must have given it to me to hold sometime, and after we left Switzerland, it wasn't cold enough for me to wear a coat again so I never found it. I only happened upon it the other week when I wore it out one morning. I've been meaning to post it to you."

"It's okay, you don't have to go through the trouble. Especially now that I know how much that the Breitling cost."

"It's no trouble, really."

I suddenly realised then that she probably wanted this conversation more than I did. Personally, I thought it was more than a little depressing to talk about old times with an ex, especially when there wasn't much hope of reconciliation but as long she wanted to stay on the line, I decided to oblige her.

"You know what I still have of yours?" I asked.

"What?"

"Your panties from the first time we met."

Emma laughed heartily for several long moments before replying, "Oh my God, I'd forgotten all about that."

"Yeah, I still keep it inside a shoe box along with the signed copy of that book you gave me."

Emma composed herself and replied, still with a hint of laughter in her voice, "God, I think back to that night and I have trouble reconciling that it was me."

"I think you've mentioned this to me before."

"I mean, I'm not the kind of girl who has one night stands with strangers in hotel rooms and then proceeds to call him back about six months later to do it all again. It's just not the type of thing I usually do."

"If I recall, I talked you into a lot of stuff you don't usually do," I said wryly.

"Yeah, you have that uncanny ability," she chuckled. "I had a sense of deja vu a few weeks ago when I was staying in a hotel in Miami and happened upon a rather strapping guy at the hotel bar. He was funny, charming, easy on the eyes-"

"Emma, I love talking to you, but I'm not sure I'm keen on hearing about how some guy nailed you in a Miami hotel," I said more bluntly than I had intended.

"No, nothing like that happened you pervert!" Emma replied defensively. "What I was going to say was while he did hit on me, and he was admittedly very smooth and turned me on just a little bit, I quite happily just let him walk me back to my room before calling it a night. If that had happened when you and I met, I probably would've dry humped him in the bar."

"You once told me you were in a nosedive back when we first met."

"Hmm, nosedive might be a bit over dramatic, but that was a rather stressful period. Then again, we did have sex on what was basically our first meeting."

"Ah yes, the first of many hotels we fucked in."

Emma laughed once more. "Wow, I'm trying to have a vulnerable moment and you keep going back to that well."

"Sorry, it's just us and hotel rooms," I chuckled.

"Yeah I know. I'd hate to shine a black light over some of those rooms," she said before continuing on from before. "Now that I look back, I wasn't even working non-stop. Not really. I did two films that year and somehow I equated that with a torturous workload."

"You never really complained about your work so much as you did the lifestyle."

"We'll that's true. I felt like I spent half my time evading the paparazzi. And I felt like I was losing that battle. It depressed me to no end."

"And somehow you went from that level of privacy to sunbathing topless on a Caribbean beach."

"Yeah, without giving it much of a second thought at that. There was just something so liberating about our time together though. Moving from hotel to hotel, city to city, evading the paparazzi and carrying nothing but a small suitcase," she said fondly before mumbling, "Good times."

I sensed her mood was dipping and so I decided to adopt a decidedly cheerier tone and said, "You know that guy in Miami probably went back to his hotel room afterwards and masturbated himself to sleep after doing a Google image search of you."

"He wasn't the only one. He was very fit," Emma muttered.

"Great, I'm not going to be able to get the image of you fingering yourself in a Miami hotel room out of my head now," I chuckled before adding, "Not that I'd want to."

"Really? Because I seem to recall over 4 months of memories you could draw upon."

"Now that you mention it, yeah. Each one better than the last," I said smugly.

"Any one in particularly that you found memorable."

"That first time was pretty great."

"Oh, too easy," Emma scoffed, "come on, we spent 4 months together, surely we beat our first."

"Let me think about that. In the meantime, why don't you go first?"

"Venice, first day, around noon," Emma said immediately and continued as if she had prepared her answer, "We'd been on a train for all of the previous day and didn't get much sleep with that bickering old couple in the compartment next to us. We checked-in to our hotel room overlooking the canals. I took a bath, you joined me, and later we made love on top of the sheets and fell asleep together. We didn't wakeup till sunset."

"Can't believe I'd forgotten that," I muttered as I thought back to that day and smiled at how accurate her recollection was. After a moment, I replied, "our second meeting in Sydney when we decided we were going to runaway together. You were all dolled up for your premiere and looking more stunning than I thought possible. You were inspecting your makeup in the bathroom when I walked up behind you and lifted up your dress. I remember we fucked slowly but intensely, as we stared at each other in the bathroom mirror. It was like I was fucking the perfect woman. Hair perfect, face of an angel, wearing expensive little black dress. Even your tits looked better than usual in that light. You were perfect. Utterly without flaw. I've always said you were remarkably down to Earth but in that particular moment, you were Emma Watson the movie star and looking every bit the Hollywood star. We came at almost the exact same time and I remember pulling out of you and seeing our cum drip down your legs as you held onto the basin for support. I left you there and then no more than 2 minutes later, you walked out looking perfect again. I think back to that moment at least several times a week."

After I finished talking, I heard she taking deep breaths; she was basically panting. I realised in that moment my heart was racing too. Apparently it was a good memory for both of us.

"That was a good one," she said as she cleared her throat and I heard her shuffling around to presumably sit up straight. "Alright, my turn. That time when you fingered me beneath the blanket during our flight to Greece. I remember trying desperately to hold out but eventually that just made the orgasm so much more intense. I sat through the rest of the flight with my panties soaked through and through."

"You said you didn't like that," I laughed.

"Of course I did, I just didn't want to encourage public sex," she said sternly before adding, "Still, at least you had the good sense to do it at night when most of the other passengers were asleep."

"Remember that time in Rome?" I asked.

"I know where you're going with this and for the last time, no, I did not enjoy the anal sex. It made me feel gross afterwards."

"Then why did you agree to it a second time when we were in the Caribbean?"

"Because I was really drunk."

"I remember you enjoyed it the second time. You were squirming so much the first time I had to hold you down. The second time, you didn't even blink. You just rolled over and spread you cheeks for me."

"Yeah, and I woke up bow-legged, sore and regretting it the next morning," she chuckled and yet sounding almost mournful. And a brief pause, she said with renewed enthusiasm: "Now Geneva; THAT was a memorable one. You arranged for the VIP pool at the hotel to be cleared. We dove in naked and wrestled around in the water for a bit before you held me against you and slid a hand between my legs. You'd touched me like that so many times before but there was something about this particular occasion. Something so erotic about you fingering me in a pool until I came, while you covered my mouth with your hand to stop me crying out. It was so good and repeated it again a few nights later."

"Speaking of cumming, you keep talking like that I just might."

Emma laughed for a moment until we were both silent once more. I can't speak for Emma but I was just going over the countless other times we'd had sex in the past. Only by saying it out loud did I once again come to the realisation I have almost every day; I was so damn lucky.

"And speaking you fingering me..." Emma said slowly.

I laughed out loud and in reply, Emma chuckled before continuing, "I had a moment the other night where I found myself thinking of you. I was sleeping and suddenly I woke up and had I particularly strong sense of longing for you; particularly your hands."

"My hands?"

"Yeah. You were always a bit handsy in bed. I lost count of the amount of times I woke up to find you groping a tit or had a finger inside of me. It made for some rather vivid and raunchy dreams. At the time, I remember thinking, 'I love this guy, but he's horny 24/7'. Never thought I'd find myself missing it."

"I was sleeping next to one of the biggest movie stars on the planet, can you blame me? Besides, I managed to get you wet most of the time. You even came in your sleep that one time."

"I still don't believe that happened," she said as she laughed out loud. "It's impossible for me to have an orgasm in my sleep and not know it."

"Sure seemed like an orgasm to me."

"You've seen me cum a million times. You know how intense I can be. No way I could sleep through that."

"I know an orgasm when I see, hear and feel it."

"Agree to disagree, but either way, things are much duller when I go to bed nowadays."

"I must admit, you going to bed is a mental image I frequently picture. Just the thought of you sleeping in the nude always gets me excited.

"Sorry to burst your bubble but I stopped doing that the moment you were gone."

"No!" I cried out sarcastically. "Why would you ruin that for me?"

"I'm sorry, I was just joking. I do in fact go to bed every night naked and with a vibrator," she replied mockingly.

"I know you're joking but I'm just going to pretend that that's true."

We both shared a good laugh. In that moment, I was glad I hadn't ended the conversation earlier. After all the sex, travel and shopping, it was occasionally easy to forget that some of our best times together were simply talking. Admittedly we were often naked most of those times but whereas our relationship started with sex, it continued and grew into something much more as a result of our connection and chemistry. I toyed around with asking her one question that had been on my mind since we last saw each other. A question I hadn't asked in all our conversations since. Now seemed as good a time as any and there didn't seem to be anything to lose so I said,

"Did we make the right call ending things the way we did?"

I heard nothing for a moment. I pressed the phone hard against my ear and strained to hear any sound but as before, all I heard was the sound of traffic. After several long seconds she said,

"I don't know. At that time, the relationship was too young to just up and leave behind our family and friends. That's not even mentioning our jobs. Although the irony is that at the moment, the film I'm working on right now is the first one I've done in ages and I haven't seen my parents in weeks and haven't even gone out on the town with friends for even longer so..."

She began to trail off. I don't know if her answer made me feel better or worse.

"What about you?" she asked.

"I've been working a lot and haven't had that much time for friends as I would have liked so at the moment it seems like a pretty shitty idea. Having said that, I'm in a better place now in my job than I was when I first met you. I have real responsibilities now and I'm not treated like some kid so I guess I can't complain too much."

Emma sighed before saying, "Did we make too big a deal out of all that? I mean, our lives weren't going to continue to be that hectic. Could we have made it work? You could've continued living in Australia and me in England; I could split my time between them."

"Or I could've just quit my job, move to London with you and put my journalism degree to good use. I like being a lawyer but with some of the criminals I deal with, it'd probably be a welcome change of pace."

Emma chuckled tired. "God, doesn't just talking about this again feel exhausting."

"Yeah, no use dwelling on the past. I loved you so much but we made our choices."

There was a long pause. I heard nothing on the other end for what seemed like an eternity. At first I was unsure why she wasn't saying anything in reply but then as I replayed that last sentence in my head, the answer became clear.

"Loved?" she asked with an undeniable waver in her voice. "Past tense?"

Shit, I thought. I had just said it without thinking. I know we were broken up but somehow it still felt like the wrong thing to say.

"I haven't seen you in so long," I said eventually.

"You don't love me anymore?" she asked very matter-of-factly.

"No, I do. It's just..." I trailed off.

"What?" she asked eagerly.

"It's easier to put these things in past tense. Otherwise I'd be too tempted to fly over to London to see you. Believe me, I picture that scenario in my head often."

"Really?" she asked. "What would you do right now if I were there with you?"

"I would hold you and never let go."

She chuckled before replying, "Really? That seems a bit tame by your standards. And cheesy."

I smiled and took a short pause before saying, "Well that's just to start. After I've held you for a moment, I'd kiss you. It'd be soft, tender, passionate. And then, well, what would you be wearing?"

"What I always where I guess. Regular shirt and jeans. Maybe a jacket if it's chilly," she said blandly before changing tone and adding, "But hold on, it's summer over in Australia right? Well then, I guess I'd probably be wearing a one of my light floral summer dresses. Maybe a backless dress with thin straps and a hint of cleavage. You always liked that look it I recall."

"Well if that's what you're wearing, than I'd slowly push you up against my wall and slide my hand up your dress. My fingers would linger over the front of your panties for a moment as I reminded myself of the terrain; then I'd loop my fingers around the waist band and pull them down you legs."

"And then?" she asked, sounding slightly aroused.

"I'd continue kissing you as my hand rests against your neck. I'd slowly move it down to your shoulders and brush the straps of you dress off until the front fell away. And then I won't lie, I'd probably stand there for about 30 seconds just stare at your tits."

Emma laughed. "You did spend an awful lot of time just looking at them."

"They're very pretty. After that, I'd lean in and kiss you again as I cup both your breasts and give them a firm squeeze. And then I'd hike up your dress until it's bunched up around your waist, take off my own pants and then, well, you know what comes next."

"No, tell me," she said firmly.

I smiled. "I'd be too impatient to move to the bedroom. Instead, I'd take you right then and there by the front door. We'd do it up against the door, the wall, even on the floor. We'd spend all night getting reacquainted during which, I'd like to take a trip down memory lane. Maybe fuck you in all your holes. By the end I'd leave you, well, put it this way; remember our first night in Geneva?"